My mind, if that’s what it was, raced ahead. I could drop by Ana’s, give her that cuddle, and still make it in time to deal with Sa’afia at six.

Well, the chances of getting out of Ana’s place without having fucked her were close to zero. But I thought of an excuse: what the hell, the poor lonely girl needed a good comfort-fuck right then, and surely, as someone who cared about her, I was the one to give it. A good hard comfort-fuck.

Reasons are easy.

Then a vision came, not in words but in colour and feel, of how it would be: Ana fucked kneeling on her bed, then a quick shower, and racing over to Sa’afia, to push her down over her table and fuck her, with occasional touches with the stick across the sides of her ass and thighs. I could compare the two girls from the inside.

The feel of their hips in my hands as I held each girl down, petite Ana and womanly Sa’afia, and I could consider each cunt in connoissuer terms, giving full attention to their texture, viscosity, tightness and mobility. And responsiveness. I might never realise that dream I’d been blessed with, the one in which I had the two of them at once. But this would be the next best thing. Would it be worth getting fired for? Definitely.

My brain came back, reluctantly. Actually, sex with both Ana and Sa’afia probably would be worth getting fired for, if all that was at stake was getting a new job. But that was never the point.

“Oh Jaime. Manaia’s broken up with me. He was, he was -” Ana was fighting back sobs. “He said he’d broken up with his – With this girl Kayla. She was his girlfriend, and he said she wasn’t his girlfriend any more and -” Ana lost the fight with the sobs.

I’d started the conversation intending to be formal and careful. But although Ana was almost certainly being manipulative, the sobs were real. The thing with Manaia had only been going a few days, unless there were things I didn’t know. But passion is passion, breakups hurt and pain is pain. What hurts, hurts. “Oh honey. Ana, if he left you he’s out of his mind. He’s the stupidest stupid boy in the history of the world. Including Kentucky.”

No really, I just want a cuddle. That’s all.

Now there was only crying. I’d hit the motherlode, and she could spend time being miserable and sympathised with. I said, “Poor you.”

“Nnnn.”

“Poor sad girl.”

“Nnnnnnffff. Ooooh.”

“Poor love.”

“I wish you were holding me.”

“Ahhh. I’m your probation officer, sweetie.”

“Please come round and just hold me.”

“I really can’t.”

“Please. You don’t have to fuck me. I won’t try to fuck my poor dutiful probation officer. But I really need a hug.”

“Damn right. Well, I put her on your caseload because I thought you probably would get close to her. Having someone half smart in her corner would do her no harm. And because every young man needs to learn that, no matter what, there are times he just has to keep his dick in his pants.”

There was another pause while we considered what Jock had just said. I said, “And that brings us back to Lance.”

“We should go on television. All right, keep your dick out of Ana, and see if you can keep Lance out of jail. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Now piss off. Go home.”

I went back to my desk, intending to take his advice. I just had time to get home, shower and collect tonight’s condoms, for Sa’afia, and tomorrow’s clothes, for me, before six o’clock. My rendezvous with Sa’afia, her table and a stick. I was going to apply that stick across her bum no matter what, but she’d better be naked when I arrived.

I thought about dealing with a disobedient Sa’afia, and I was definitely thinking with my cock.

I said, “No, I haven’t fucked Ana. Why do you ask? I didn’t know it was an option.”

Jock stared at me, furious. I glared back at him. He made a gesture, dropping the flat of his palm towards the desk as if he was pushing a kitten’s head down. “Yeah, all right, all right. You think you’re funny, but that was a bit funny. No, It’s not an option. If you’d said ‘yes’, you’d already be fired. How’s she going?”

“She’s back at school. She’s got a job. She hasn’t been arrested in months.”

“Yeah. She’s got you as her defence lawyer. It’s okay: the cops don’t like you for it, but they’ll never like someone like you anyway. That’s all right. It’s your style.”

I said, “There’s more to life than likability.”

“That’s true, but I thought you were too weak to know it. Anyway, there are people here who didn’t think I should put a pretty girl on your caseload.”

“Oh? Can I ask why?”

“Nothing personal. Just you’re a young man, and young men do tend to think with their dicks. I’m sure I shouldn’t say so, any more. But you wanna argue that it’s not true?”

“Not particularly.”

“Thought not. Well, look out for Ana. She definitely wants to fuck you. And someone half clever, like you, could easily come up with reasons why she should maybe succeed. For her sake, for her good. You thought of any?”

“Umm, I could tell myself it could be good for her self-esteem. A more intimate relationship would help us to work more closely on her education and employment ambitions. I’d be able to give better protection from cops and such. It would do no harm, and we’re already friends. I’ve thought that kind of thing.”

“All right. You come back with a report that recommends something instead of jail but doesn’t sound like wet liberal bullshit. And we’ll work out how to sell it to the judge. And the cops. Come and see me with what you’ve got at one o’clock, and we’ll go and talk to the cops around four. Ok?”

When Jock had finished punching his juvenile crims bloody, he’d trust them with $50, maybe more, to use to get back to their mothers, or aunts, or whoever was most likely to look after them. Jock couldn’t afford to lose the money he lent those kids – they knew that, because he’d become a bit of a legend – and being trusted scared the hell out of them. Most of them wanted to earn that trust, and most of them paid the money back.

In a movie he’d have been played by Pat O’Brien, except that Jock was an atheist. He was, as they say, a better man than I was, or am. We had nothing in common. We faced each other, each time we met, completely baffled.

“Yeah. Farm guy. But he was resisting unlawful imprisonment. And he didn’t thump farm guy very hard. Anyway, he needs to have to come in on the weekends and do a bit of work scrubbing graffiti and so on, to keep him tired. He needs someone who knows more about this than I do to get him to stay in his bedroom when he feels like having a wank. And he needs to stay out of jail, because that would fuck him up beyond repair.”

Jock looked at me. Blankly. “I’m not so sure he’s not beyond repair anyway. But I’d agree that jail will fuck him up. He’s a sex offender and he’s timid. He’s got victim written all over him. And if there was a dangerous idiot out on that farm, it was the farm manager. If he’d tried to lock me in his goddamn barn, I’d have thumped him too. All right.”

Jock, the director, said, “You’ve written a report? That’s something. Give it here.”

Jock took my report and turned away to skim it. I hate it when people do that with anything I’ve written. I like to read their faces while they read me. Jock was a terrifying bastard, with a big red face, a gorilla’s arm muscles and a pigeon’s chest. He’d passed the mandatory age but no-one had the nerve to tell him to retire.

He spun his chair back to face me. “It’s good in a way. And it’s bullshit.”

“Bullshit?” I was more surprised than offended. I thought I’d written something honest.

“Yes. Read that and it’s clear that you’re to blame. You probably think writing that’s a noble … gesture or something.”

“It’s just what I think was happening.”

“Ah, bullshit, Jaime. Actually, I expected you to produce some bullshit. Just, I thought it’d be something that covers your arse. Since you’re a clever bastard. But this isn’t even clever.” Jock was known to take some of the cockier young offenders to the Police and Citizens boxing ring, to show them that a man in his sixties could beat them. He said he was demonstrating that violence is meaningless. Really, he thought it got their attention.

I was getting annoyed. “I was trying to protect my colleagues.”

“Y’arrogant little weasel, you think the people here need your protection? We’ve been doing this longer than you’ve known how to tie your own laces. You thought it’d be romantic to throw your career away. Make a big gesture, take all the blame and walk. That’s no use to us. We’d rather you turn up to work every day. Do your share.”

“Well, Lance is going to jail. He’s not going to do very well there. That’s down to me.”

“Well, Jaime, it aint. Guess who’s fault it is? It’s Lance’s. You can’t mind him every minute of his life. You couldn’t stop him from fucking his life up when you weren’t around, because you’re not god. Contrary to what you seem to think. Here, take this report back. Keep it somewhere, and have a look at it if you ever start thinking you’re clever again.”

“You wouldn’t spank me?” It was a tone of voice that went with batted eyelashes and other signs of utter sincerity.

“Sa’afia, you know I won’t. I’m not going to use my hand. What will I use?”

“The stick.”

I wondered what “the” stick was. It sounded promisingly specific. I said, “Now, do you think I’m pleased with you?”

She sounded very solemn. “No, sir.” She was laughing at me, and yet I knew that if I touched her she would shake. Just as I was both amused and excited by her.

“So what are you getting?”

“You’re going to give me the stick, sir.”

“Exactly. Hang on.” The director had stuck his head in my office door, and mouthed, ‘my office’. He’d only heard me say, “so what are you getting”, which might sound like a probation officer thing to say.

I said, “I’ll see you at six.” The director had left the door open, and I wasn’t sure how far away he was. I assumed I could be heard. “And that item we discussed -“

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